Bear Hunting On The Delaware

Sometimes you come back from bear hunts wounded and sometimes you come back dead. Luckily I didn't die, but I came pretty close.

To be honest, I wasn't even aware that I was on a bear hunt until I actually saw a bear but then I went right into hunting mode. And by "hunting mode" I mean I sang the Bear Hunt Song and then kayaked away. (See how I just casually informed you that I was on a kayak during this bear hunt?)

But here is the documented proof of the bear:

And here is the proof that I was actually on a kayak:

And my new-found muscles are proof that I put in more effort on this 7 mile kayak trip than my sister did.

We Almost Bought A Penguin

You know those normal offices that are calm and orderly, where the work is routine and everyone stays in their cubicle? Well that's not where I work. My office is one tiny room with three normal size desks but that's the only normal about it. My hours are not normal (though I won't be complaining about showing up at 2pm), my clients are not normal (don't get mad if you're one of them), my work environment is not normal (there is a bottle of vodka on my desk to maintain sanity) and my boss is the least normal of all.

There was the office pet turtle (of the Thomas the Stupid Turtle saga) where I didn't think things could get any weirder...but then they did.

I made a sarcastic joke about buying a penguin to replace the turtle, but it became a lot less funny when my boss started doing serious research on how one can go about purchasing a penguin. He found a shady website with penguins available for purchase where they would give the animal a "subtle sedative" to slow their heart rate so they could be shipped via UPS without food for 5 days. I don't know if it's worse that this website actually exists or that my boss was seriously considering BUYING A PENGUIN! 

And just when I thought he had come to his senses, I show up to work only to discover that he had bought the one thing more random than a penguin: Seahorses. The man bought seahorses. And not just one, he bought two of them:

He also special-ordered salt water and fresh algae but when I suggested we buy a killer whale next, I was the weird one...

Broken Phones & Broken Hearts

Breaking your phone is a humbling experience. It's also a terrible experience which I'd only wish to happen to terrible people. 

One second you're life is normal and the next second all the pictures, text messages and screenshots of other people's embarrassing photos are gone. Completely unexpected without any warning or time for mental preparations.

My experience went a little something like this: Denial -> Avoidance -> Acceptance -> Panic -> and then Mourning. So many cute selfies lost forver. (Just kidding there weren't actually that many.)

But as terrible and heartbreaking of an experience as it may have been, it has taught me a number of great life lessons:

1) Always back up your photos. Even if you just got a new phone 4 months ago. Because sometimes you break your new phone and then you're only stuck with the old pictures that were saved on your memory card which you never cared for to begin with. 

2) I'm never to be trusted with breakable things.

3) That Sprint is the worst. And insurance that covers everything BUT screen cracks and water damage is not worth your time because they'll make you pay a million dollar deductible for a new phone anyways. 

4) That switching to T-Mobile may have been the best decision of my life thus far. Turns out you don't need to verbally abuse customer service for 3 hours a day 4 days a week to get your phone number changed. 

If I was smart, I would've gotten a Nokia phone and gone back to the days of T9 and playing snake. Because when those things break (if you're talented enough to figure out HOW to break them), your whole life doesn't shatter before your eyes. You may lose your high scores of snake, but if that's my biggest worry I think I'll be okay.

Now with these fancy smartphones we get so attached because our whole life is on this incredibly fragile piece of plastic. When your phone breaks, not only do you lose your stats on your 10 thousand games of freecell or your photo diary of your life, but you also lose connection to the outside world through 8 different social apps. 

I can go years with the same phone but I've managed to have 3 different phones in the past 5 months (I only broke one. Don't judge me.) And with each phone I go though a mourning process for everything that got lost in the transfer of devices. And each time I'm forced to become less attached to this expensive piece of plastic. 

Maybe it won't take a 4th phone for me to realize that it's just a phone. It's not my whole world and it won't be the end of the world if it breaks.

Why Do I Ever Leave My House?

Ever since my last trip I've become a little over paranoid with traveling. It's not the flying or the turbulence that scares me, it's the fear of getting stuck in a foreign country, losing my bags, getting mugged or kidnapped that concerns me.

My trip yesterday hadn't even BEGUN before my travel luck started kicking in.

So...I happened to lose my house keys a few weeks ago and haven't had a chance to get new ones (Roommate Sarah's loving being my personal doorman.) But before my afternoon flight to Tel Aviv, I needed to run a few errands so I had left my front door unlocked. When I returned home 15 minutes later (just as my cab was pulling up), I found that a responsible tenant had re-LOCKED the door on their way out.

So there I was, locked out of my house, without my suitcase, with an international flight leaving in 2 hours and started panicking. Luckily, I remembered about someone who happens to have a copy of my front door key (from the last time I got locked out) and then went on a full-fledged scavenger hunt in my cab to pick up the keys from said stranger, then back to my house to pick up my suitcase, then back to drop the keys back off & then headed to the airport.

Thankfully there was a delay so I miraculously made my flight, but if my trip continues with this trend I may never leave my house again.

Cab Drivers

I could start a new blog titled "My Encounters with Cab Drivers," but I feel like that blog already exists.

While sitting in a car with a complete stranger you can either choose to sit in awkward silence for the duration of your drive or you can use it as an opportunity to meet someone new.

During the 3 1/2 years I've been living in New York, I've taken more cabs than I can remember. It's a safer travel option in the middle of the night and it's the only travel option when late for work or when carrying a ridiculous amount of groceries.

I gave out latkes once on my way to a Chanukah party when the cab driver complimented me on my "amazing smelling food." (Compliments are the easiest way to getting free food from me.) We then continued to have a whole discussion on the stories and customs of Chanukah and how they were similar to some of the customs and traditions of his own culture.

A few weeks later, on my way to a birthday party, my cab driver started telling me about his wife and children. And how his wife loves to dance. And how he thinks shes cheating on him.

He spent the next 20 minutes telling me about how she's also a cab driver and how her phone has been busy every time he tries to call her during the day. When he confronted her about his suspicions, she denied it and told him she was talking to her friends. He stole her phone from her and every time he answered to the unknown or blocked incoming call, the person on the other line immediately hung up the phone.

He asked me if I was aware of another way to trace the call or to find out who it was without going to the phone company with a warrant. I gave a few suggestions but I realized that I'm just not private detective material.

So I tried the therapist approach:

I asked him what it was about their marriage that made him think she'd cheat on him. Or if maybe he was just being paranoid. Or if there was something else going on that would make him think there was someone else.

Turns out I'm not therapist material either.

But then he handed me two phone numbers which he believe to be connected to the mystery caller. I had failed at being a detective and I had failed at being a therapist so I thought it couldn't hurt to try calling the numbers for some sort of clues.

Both numbers hit an automated message usually used for computer-based phone numbers. I didn't think this type of stuff actually happened in real life to real people. I mean I knew it happened, but I had never been in the middle of it. All I wanted was a drama free ride to a birthday party and I somehow got myself involved in a heartbroken cab driver's family drama.

I felt helpless knowing I couldn't help him. I couldn't give him advice as I had never been a situation even close to the one he was currently in. And I couldn't help him track the person on the other line because I lack the skills of a private investigator. I couldn't help him and it felt terrible.

All I could do was pay my cab fare, wish him well and go on my way.

It's these moments that make me grateful for the city I live in. So many strangers and stories and lives I have yet to encounter. And though I know I can't always help everyone, maybe it helps to just listen.

Thomas The Stupid Turtle

I wouldn't call myself "an animal person," not because I hate animals but because I don't particularly care for them.

I'm fine with looking at them and even sharing the occasional petting of random strangers' pets on the street, but I don't think I like them in close proximity to me and I definitely don't like when my boss surprises me with a REAL LIVE TURTLE. IN MY FACE. WHILE I'M ON THE PHONE TRYING TO BE PROFESSIONAL.

Thomas the Turtle

When I told the guy to bring me back "a surprise," I was thinking more along the lines of bringing back a snack. Or a semi useful gift. I didn't think I had to specify because I didn't think a live animal was on the list of "Gifts Appropriate to Surprise Your Employee With."

I will be giving clearer instructions from now on.

But the weird part is that I'm not usually afraid of animals. I don't particularly want to be around them all the time, but I never thought looking at a turtle moving its creepy chubby legs would make me want to vomit. And I didn't either think that the sound of Thomas the Turtle making nose dives back into the water of his tiny aquarium would scare me to tears. (In my defense, I had briefly forgotten there was a live animal in the office with me.)

Miniature SeaWorld in the office

This might have something to do with my hamster I hid in the bathroom of my high school dorm for 4 months, which then died when I left him/her with someone for a weekend (we never knew if it was male or female. It's harder to tell on a hamster than you'd think). And then I cried like 4 tears mourning the only pet I'd ever had*.

*Everyone knows that carnival goldfish don't count as real pets. They don't do any tricks and have a lifespan of 2 days.

Maybe I distance myself from them so I don't get too attached and then heartbroken when they die or go missing for extended periods of time.

Or maybe I'm just more of a human person. I'd prefer spending quality time with beings that can actually TALK to me. I don't appreciate one-sided conversations with creatures that won't be able to give me advice on my life. Or tell me when they're hungry or when they want to go for a walk on their tiny turtle-leashes.

How am I expected to care for a turtle when I can barely remember to eat my own lunch?! I am not cut out for this!

My Conversation with G-d

Whenever I travel, something always goes wrong. It's like G-d tests me to see just how much He can push me until I forfeit. The cycle of events looks something like this: I plan, anything and everything goes wrong, I cry, things miraculously work themselves out.

But it has never actually happened where I get a clear sign/message letting me know that He actually heard me. Until 3 weeks ago.

I arrived into Israel on Monday evening and took a shairut (carpool cab service) from the airport to my hotel. I was the last one dropped off and when I opened the trunk, I was surprised to see that the only suitcase in the trunk did not belong to me. I started to panic but the cab driver reassured me that when the other person realized they had the wrong suitcase, they would call the cab company and the switch would be made. He told me to come back to the cab office in about an hour or so and my suitcase should be returned by then.

I went to my hotel and returned back to the cab office an hour later only to be told that my suitcase had still not been located. As it was getting later and my jet lag was kicking in, I went to check one more time and still it had not shown up.

So back to my hotel I went, suitcase-less and full of disappointment.

The next morning, I hurried over to the cab office, sure that all my belongings would have turned up by now. But no.

That was it. I came to the conclusion that the person who had my suitcase thought my clothes were cuter than theirs and they weren't planning on ever returning it.

So off I went to buy new clothes, new toiletries, and Advil for my stress-induced migraine.

It was then that I decided that I should gather all my belongings (aka my purse and another big plastic bag), walk to the Old City, and pray at the Western Wall for my suitcase.

I hadn't been to The Wall in 3 years and tend to get emotional whenever I'm there. But this time, I was the most emotional I've been in awhile.

I found a chair, sat down, and prayed my heart out (not just for my suitcase, but for everything that was going on at the moment.) Being in a different country. Alone. No belongings. I prayed for my family. I prayed for the sick people. I prayed for clarity. I prayed for my friends. I prayed for my future. I prayed for my health.. I was having an open and honest conversation with G-d. More open and honest than I've ever had. Each word took on a new meaning that I never realized was there before. And with each prayer, I sobbed. I was crying so hard my eyes were fogging up and I couldn't read the words in front of me. I read each word and I meant each word. And when I was done praying, I breathed a sign of relief.

That was the best chat of my life.

From there, I went to find the closest restroom to wash off the mascara that had rolled down my face. As I'm washing my face, I look over at the sink next to me and recognized the girl washing her hands.

"Hey! Weren't you on my [cab] yesterday?"

She paused. Then smiled as she asked, "Are you the one missing your suitcase?!"

Turns out, there had been a 3-way suitcase swap involving 2 other girls who happened to be friends. They figured out late at night that there was a mix-up but didn't know what number to call or where to go to locate the missing suitcase.

I informed them where their suitcase currently was and they organized to have mine returned there as soon as possible.


Moral of the story: Miracles do happen.